Marathon Cowboys

by Sarah Black

  “You want to fool around?”

  “With your granddad right over there in the house? I don’t know. Why don’t you just stay right where you are, little cowboy? I’ll enjoy the ride. I’m starting to like your company. I don’t know why.”

  He rocked back and forth, and I could feel his cock rising to the friction. He hopped off, shimmied out of his jeans, and had my own unsnapped and unzipped so quick I could tell I was dealing with an experienced man. I lifted my ass, let him tug my boxers down, then he did the strangest thing. He bent over, rubbed his cheek against my belly, closed his eyes and moved his face in my pubic hair, let my cock slide against his lips until he reached the tip. He reached out with his tongue, tasted me, tasted the sticky sweet I knew was already on the tip of my cock. “Oh, you smell so good.”

  Jesse slid both hands up, held my hips, then he trailed the palms of his hands down my thighs, taking my jeans and boxers with them. I was lying naked underneath him, draped across his green velvet couch, and he took his time looking at me.

  “I knew as soon as I saw these couches how beautiful you would look on one of them. Your skin is the color of a fawn in spring, you know? Such a beautiful warm brown boy.” He crawled back between my legs and sat on his knees, lifted my legs until my knees slid over his shoulders, then he bent his head and took my cock into his mouth.

  The heat inside his mouth, silky smooth, with the rough edge of teeth sliding against the length of my cock. He was stronger than he looked, and I felt his hands grip my thighs, tug them apart until he had free rein. He used his tongue to tickle the sensitive underside, and when he felt my balls draw up tight, he let my cock slide out of his mouth until just the tip was caught between his teeth. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it was ready to fly out of my chest, and I couldn’t control my breathing, grunting, and moaning. I slid my fingers into his silky hair, down to the back of his neck. It was damp with sweat under his hair.

  He moved his hands now, circled the base of my cock, pushed the foreskin down with his teeth. When he blew across the wet, exposed head, I jerked so hard I nearly bucked us both off the couch. “Easy, cowboy. Easy, my little zo-zo.” And he kissed the straining head, kissed it and sucked it into his mouth, sucked hard and squeezed the base of my cock, slid his fingers down around my balls. “I bet you taste good. I’m ready if you are.” He moved his fingers up my arm until he got to my hand, holding the back of his head, and we meshed our fingers together. I could feel the first hot splash hit the back of his throat, tension down my belly, into my balls so strong and hard it was almost painful under the sweetness. Instead of pulling his head up, he sucked me in deeper, swallowing. I felt like I was shooting a gallon of semen down his throat, and when he sat up, and smiled at me, and licked his bottom lip, I nearly broke his hand, hauling him up and into my arms, kissing his warm sweet mouth, tasting myself on his tongue.

  “I FEEL like I’m walking through a mine field here. Don’t get your feelings hurt if I don’t do what you expect, Jesse.”

  “I don’t get that. You have this big brown gorgeous body and a face off some stone monument. I bet guys have been coming on to you since you were fifteen.”

  “Yeah, well, fourteen. But being experienced doesn’t mean being skilled. Or smooth. You have got smooth tucked up in your back pocket.”

  “You’ve been living in a world where it was dangerous. Where you had other priorities. But that isn’t all of it. You’re a Western man. Quiet. Self-contained. Tough and strong and brave and all those other cowboy lies. But they’re true for you, aren’t they? You’re more a Marathon cowboy that I am, even if I did grow up here. This seems like your world.”

  “And it’s not yours?”

  Jesse was in my arms, and I had him wrapped up, arms and legs. He seemed to be enjoying making my chest his pillow. He shivered a little. “It has been before, and the people I love are here, but no, I wouldn’t choose to stay here forever. I like the city, even though….”

  “What?”

  “Sometimes the energy seems frantic, hysterical. I can’t hear myself think. That’s why I came down here. I couldn’t find enough quiet to work.”

  “I don’t want to mess anything up. I’m here to work, too.”

  “What, you mean me and you dirty dancing? It won’t mess anything up, zo-zo, if we fuck around on our couches. We’re allowed some play time.”

  This was exactly my point, I thought, though I didn’t say it out loud. A man jerks your Levi’s down, gives you a world-class blow job. Now, that man wasn’t a stranger. How did you find out if he was your lover or just a friend who liked to suck dick? Or if you were just having a little play time? And how the hell would you know if somebody was falling in love? Oh, God, that could be bad. That would be really, really bad. I decided the best thing I could do was keep my mouth shut and listen to Jesse and let him take the lead. Because he was slick as pig shit between the sheets. Or on the couch.

  “Where did Sadie go?”

  “She went back to her mama’s house. It was like I thought. She’s down here hiding from some asshole boyfriend. I only wish he was dumb enough to come down to Marathon after her.” He lifted his head. “I may be a nancy boy, but I’ve got enough of Marathon in my blood to say that we protect our women around here. I suspect The Original is getting his squirrel gun out of the closet.”

  “As long as he doesn’t use it on me.”

  “No, he’s got some massive admiration going on for you, my friend. He likes your cartoons.” Jesse hesitated. “I do too.”

  “What?”

  He leaned up on his arms, still wrapped up tight, that pretty mouth very close. “You’re going easy. You hit the ‘easy to laugh at’ target. I get the feeling you don’t want to make people upset.”

  “Well, isn’t that what a cartoon is for? To make people laugh, and maybe think just a little?”

  “Is it? You could dig in a little deeper. Of course, you always risk offending somebody that way.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Your little cartoon about the fight in the bar up in Alpine? It’s good, funny. You made sure you were the only guy being laughed at. You were very careful not to make anybody a caricature. But if you’d made me a little more flaming, with my red shoes and a tattoo of a rainbow showing on my butt—you know, like those pictures by Paul Richmond? And if you made the jerk in the ugly boots just a little more a caricature—some smokes rolled up in his sleeve, a little Confederate flag on the butt of his jeans. I don’t know, I suspect the humor would be sharper. Funnier. What I loved was the way your character just stood there, not seeing the bottle coming down on his head. Joe Cool and Crazy Horse, all mixed into one. But with that Gary Larsen twist—the man seconds before the bottle descends. That’s good.”

  “I see what you mean.” I put my hands back behind my head, laughed when Jesse nuzzled a little in my armpit.

  “What’s your cartoon about, now you’re out of the Marine Corps?”

  “I’ve been wondering that very thing. See, it’s not just being a Marine. It’s that, for a certain cohort, we were born Marines. We’ll be Marines when we die. The same values and strengths of the corps are natural parts of our character. I think The Original’s like that, and your cop uncle up in Alpine. So how does that man live in the world? In the USMC, we’re all alike. But out in the world, there are all these crazy people we’ve got to deal with. Wearing red sneakers into bars.”

  “Your Devil Dog, he’s been in uniform so far?”

  “Yeah, infantry.”

  “So if your theme is how a man, one of these born-and-bred devil dogs, makes it out in the world, out of the corps, then you’ve got to take the uniform off the boy. Not all of it—leave some external pieces for reference.”

  “A cap with insignia. Or a devil dog tattoo. Like the rainbow flag tattooed on your pretty butt—those sorts of external references.” I thought for awhile. Maybe what he needed was a cohort of characters he could use to bounce ideas off. Rainbo
w boy for sure. “Did you mind that I put you in a cartoon? I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first.”

  Jesse shook his head. “It’s fine. I know how it is when you’re working. The ideas come, you’ve got to get them down. No time to secure consent forms.” He reached over my body, picked up the sketch book lying on the floor. He showed me the sketch of my face.

  “Jesus! Don’t show that to anybody. I look like somebody’s giving me a blow job.”

  “This one’s just for me. A picture of our first time. You can be a cartoonist and a gay sex symbol at the same time, you know.”

  “Thanks, but I believe I’ll pass on being a gay sex symbol.”

  “Maybe when Devil Dog takes off his USMC uniform, he puts on a cowboy hat. Those are the values you’re talking about. You could be one of my cowboy angels.”

  Chapter Five

  I WAS dreaming, some Marty Robbins West Texas cowboy tale, but my horse had a blanket made out of pale-green velvet. I heard a metallic click, and it woke me, woke me into full alert, and I ripped the shotgun out of Jesse’s hands and slammed him back against the wall of my room, my forearm against his throat. He stared at me with big eyes, and I stared back at him, and then I looked down at the gun in my hand.

  “Jesse, don’t rack a round into a shotgun in the same room where a Marine is sleeping, okay? Especially a Marine who was in Afghanistan two months ago.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I can’t breathe.” I let him loose.

  I studied the gun again. “This isn’t a squirrel gun. This is a shotgun.”

  “Okay, whatever. Can I borrow your truck? I’ve got a little errand. I thought you might have left the keys on the dresser.”

  I stared at him again, then reached over and turned on the light. My heart rate was about two hundred. “Oh, fuck me sideways. I ought to kick your ass.” He was dressed in Texas ninja: jeans and a black T-shirt and a ball cap. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I have a bad feeling about Sadie. I thought I’d just ride over there and make sure dipshit wasn’t sitting outside her house.”

  “And if he was?”

  Jesse nodded toward the shotgun.

  “Oh, please. I ought to lock you in your room.”

  “I’m not gonna mess up your truck!”

  “Give me a break.” I pulled on the pair of jeans I’d left over the back of the chair, then reached in the top drawer for a T-shirt. “The first rule of combat, cowboy, is nobody goes anywhere alone, dig?”

  “Oh, fine, fine. I was just trying to let you get a good night’s sleep!”

  Right. I reached up and carefully scratched around the stitches in my face. They had been itching like mad. I pulled on my shoes. “Every time you tell a lie, my stitches itch. Okay, let’s go. And be quiet so we don’t wake up your granddad.”

  “We’ll probably see The Original circling the block.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. He has more brains than you and I put together.”

  I kept the lights off until we were back on Main Street. “Okay, where we going?”

  “Lee Street,” Jesse said, pointing. “I thought we could just skulk around. Loiter.”

  “That’s what deputy sheriffs always look for, at,”—I checked my watch—“at 0300. Don’t you think he would notice if the dipshit was hanging around Sadie’s house? It’s not that big a town.”

  “There’s only one deputy on duty. He can only be in so many places at once. Turn off the lights.”

  I cut the lights, coasted a bit. Then I could see where Jesse was pointing, a late-model Honda Accord parked on the street. There was a light on inside the car, and the radio was playing real low. Jesse reached for the shotgun, but I pulled it out of his reach. “I don’t think so.”

  “I grew up around guns. I know what to do!”

  “I don’t think so,” I said again. “Get the flashlight. You go around to the passenger side, shine the flashlight in. I’ll be on the other side in case he tries to run. I thought you said he drove a pickup?”

  “That’s what Sadie said. A dark blue Chevy with a cap on the back.”

  Jesse slid out of the truck, left his door open, and tiptoed up to the Honda. I had to admit he was light on his feet. I shoved the shotgun down behind the seat and crouched behind the driver’s side rear quarter.

  Jesse hit the light. The windows were fogged up, so I could see very little, but the hysterical chatter of teenagers caught naked, making out in Mom’s Honda, was fairly universal. The boy opened the driver’s side door, saw me, slammed it shut and locked it. Oh, yeah, that was gonna keep the bad guys out. I gestured to Jesse to get back in the truck.

  “That was probably a good deed,” he said. “I did not see any condoms in evidence.”

  The Honda started, flew down the road with a jerk of shifting gears.

  “Why don’t we leave the truck here, take a walk and scout around on foot? That’s always a better way to get the lay of the land.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ve got the flashlight. Can you grab that shotgun?”

  “I said no already and I meant it. You don’t use guns to scare people. And if we need somebody killed, I’ll just choke him to death.”

  Jesse rubbed his throat. “You nearly choked me.”

  “I did not. Don’t be a pussy. And if I did, you deserved it.”

  “Are you gonna turn me over your knee and spank me?”

  “You wish. Now where are we going?”

  “Another block up, then down to the left.”

  “Alright. Let’s cut the chatter.”

  We walked in silence, the air cool and still. Jesse pointed to Sadie’s house when we got close, then he leaned up and spoke in my ear. “There’s an alley out back.” I nodded for him to go ahead.

  The alley looked empty, but I pulled Jesse up against my chest. “Wait a minute. Give your eyes a chance to get used to the dark. Then look again. Look for something moving.” We waited, his back snug against my chest, and I could feel his racing heartbeat slow and steady under my hand.

  He raised his hand, pointed, and we stood very still, watching the spot. I studied it for a moment, then I got it—it was the lit tip of a cigarette. I gave my eyes another second, studying the scene slightly out of focus, then I had it. He was sitting on the lowered tail of his pickup, smoking. He’d pulled the truck between some trash cans. I took a step back, and Jesse followed me.

  “Same thing with the kids. You circle around and shine your flashlight on him. Hold it up high, and right into his face. Got it? He’s gonna run right toward me, either in his truck or on foot. I’ll catch him either way.” Jesse nodded, left me, moving quietly down the street. I waited until I could see him moving down the alley, then I started up to meet him.

  He did his part perfectly, and the dipshit bolted down the alley, his cigarette still in his mouth, ran straight into my arms.

  I jerked him around, pulled his arm up between his shoulder blades. He was fighting, blustering, “What the fuck you think you’re doing, man? I’m not doing anything wrong, I mean, shit, I was just out….”

  Jesse joined us, flashed the light in his face. “Remember me?”

  The guy froze. He smelled like he’d been a few days out in the sun without a shower, and his wrists were slick with sweat. “What are you doing here?”

  “Queerbait, right? I think the last time you asked me that, you said, ‘What the fuck are you doing here, queerbait?’ I told you then to stay away from Sadie. You didn’t think I was talking to you?”

  “She asked me to come, bring her some shit. She thought she had a connection down here, but the guy wasn’t around. Or wasn’t ready to trade if she spread her legs.”

  Jesse raised his arm, brought the flashlight down across the guy’s mouth before I could move. He spit out blood, blubbering again. I leaned into his ear. “I would shut up right now. You’re in more trouble than you know.”

  We all were. Like it was answering my last words, the red and blue lights of a Brewster C
ounty Sheriff’s Department cruiser lit up the alley. A young deputy got out, a Latina no more than twenty-five, and The Original opened up the passenger-side door.

  I held the dipshit’s wrists until the deputy got to us, then I held them out to her. She gave me a look that said we’d be speaking later, but she didn’t question what we were doing, just lifted the handcuffs off her belt and closed them around his wrists. She hauled him to the back of the cruiser, put him in. By that time Sadie was out on the porch, wrapping her robe around her. “Granddad! What’s going on?” She flew into his arms. I looked at Jesse. He was looking for a quiet place to stash the flashlight.

  “Give it to me,” I said. “That’s a good flashlight. The blood will wash off.” I stuck it in my back pocket.

  The deputy motioned us over. “What are you two doing here?”

  “I had a bad feeling my cousin was in danger from her abuser,” Jesse said, pulling the ball cap off and running his fingers through his hair. “We came to check she was okay.”

  “And?”

  “And we found the perpetrator hiding in the alley behind her house.”

  Her eyebrows rose at the perpetrator, and she bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. “I suppose he fell?”

  “No. I hit him in the mouth with a flashlight. It was necessary.”

  I sighed, stared up at the heavens, begged for patience. When I looked back down, Jesse was grinning at me. “God, I have got to paint you with that look on your face. That’s like the tenth time I’ve seen it.”

  “Did the kids in the Honda call 911?”

  She looked at me then. “Sadie called, the kids in the Honda called, Jesse Clayton Senior called.”

  The Original had his arm around Sadie. “You come on back to the house with me.”

  “She can stay in my room,” I said. I was starting to wonder how many grandkids were going to show up.

  The Original shook his head. “Her cousin wants to help out so much, he can do something useful. She can stay in his room.” He waited until the deputy climbed back in the car and rolled down the alleyway. “Jesse, if you so much as put one finger on that shotgun, I am going to beat your sorry ass. Talking to you is like talking to a God-damned brick wall. I told you no. What did you not understand about that?”